The Long Run
by American Soldier
Summary: Xander has made a home for himself in Africa. But when a race between the US Government and pirates for an ancient treasure brings itself to his doorstep, Xander's going to need all the help he can get to keep his new home safe – and save his ass as well
1. Chapter 1

The Long Run

Disclaimer: Own nothing!

Summary: Xander has been away from the Counsil for 2 years, and made a home for himself in Africa. But when a race between the US Government and pirates for an ancient treasure brings itself to his doorstep, Xander's going to need all the help he can get to keep his new home safe – and save his ass as well!

ϗϗϗ

Bangalla, Southern Africa...2008:

"Morning, Captain," Buru greeted his employer.

"Coffee," the one-eyed white man ground out, shuffling into the bridge of the small catamaran as he blinked sleep away as quickly as possible.

"You alright, Captain," Buru asked, worried for his boss and friend.

"Coffee," Xander ground out again, and Buru, knowing that his boss was very very mean when he was in dire need of caffeine, relinquished the pot to him, and the man poured himself a large cup, gulping it down quicker than Buru believed was possible, "Do me a favor, Buru? Go to the fridge and grab me a twinkie."

"Right, Captain," Buru nodded, moving his large Ving Rhames like body as quickly as he could, pulling out a pack of his captain's most prized food.

"Thanks," Xander said, ripping it open and shoving the yellow snack down his throat, "Ugh...when's our group arriving?"

"Ten minues, Captain," Buru said, "I've got the men prepping right now, we should be ready to cast off momentarily."

"Right," Xander nodded, sinking down into his seat as he did so, "Ugh, remind me to listen to your advice next time we get invited to a Jungle Patrol party the night _before_ we have an 8am tour."

"You got drunk," Buru sighed, leaning against the bulkhead as he did so, "Xander, what have I told you about that?"

"Don't do it, I know, I know," Xander sighed, drinking his coffee, "But, c'mon! It was a Jungle Patrol party, you know those guys are connected up the wazzoo! The alcohol, the food, the _women_, oh my God, the women."

"But you had an 8am tour, and you should quit drinking as it is," Buru said sternly, not willing to back down, "Last weekend, I found you passed out on the dock! You would have drowned without my intervention."

"Nah uh," Xander eloquently replied, "I've passed out in worse situations, Hell, I've been _knocked out_ in worse situations and been fine!"

"I pulled your skinny white ass out of the water, Xander," Buru glared.

"...Maybe," Xander begrudgingly admitted, "C'mon, Buru, you know me. You know I don't drink when we're out on the water, or when I'm in the shop!"

"True," Buru agreed, "But when you're not in either of those situations, it's rare to find you without a bottle in your hand or on your lips!"

"Gah," Xander groaned, "Just gimme a break, I'm tired, ok? Plus, we got a tour coming in, I wanna be sharp."

"...Very well, Xander," Buru lifted himself off the bulkhead, shaking the dust off his jeans and wifebeater as he did so. He pointed at Xander and said, "But this is not over, by any means!"

"Fine, fine," Xander said, "In the meantime, to your station, 1st Mate," Xander stuck his tongue out, earning himself a grin from his friend.

"Fine, Captain," Buru smirked, "Just watch your back, you might wind up with our main attractions if you stick out your tongue again."

"Promises, promises," Xander laughed.

"Oh, and Captain," Buru turned back from the ladder to look at Xander, "Be on your toes. I have it on good authority that Captain Jack is gonna show a tour group at the same time this morning."

"Gah, fuckin' A," Xander ground out, "Will he never gimme a break?!"

"Not for a while," Buru smirked, "Oh, and Captain, you might want to button your shirt...and put on some pants."

Xander stared at him for a moment, then looked down, finding that he was dressed in a pair of engineer's boots, a white button-up dress shirt, and a pair of very dirty boxers.

"...I seem to have misplaced my jeans," Xander sighed, "Take lead and stall if the tour gets here, Buru, I'mma go get some pants from storage."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Buru laughed.

ϗϗϗ

An hour or so later, a fully sober (not to mention, dressed) Captain Xander Harris stood on the deck of his catamaran before a group of 7 individuals, including a family of 4 from France and 3 college students from America.

"Good morning, ladies and gents," Xander greeted them, smoothing out his wrinkled jeans as he did so, "We are now about 12 miles off the coast of Bangalla, home to a smaller island which is populated primarily by seals. These waters are home to seals, dolphins, whales and, the stars, our friendly neighborhood great white sharks. Welcome to Shark Tours Xtreme," Xander said with a grin, "Today, we're going to allow the majority of you to observe-"

He stopped speaking for a moment, hearing a splashing to his right as he did so and, noticing that most of his clients had turned their heads starboard, turned his as well, and saw a massive great white shark falling into the water, a dead seal stuck in its mouth for all to see.

"...Observe," he picked up, regaining their attention, "These majestic and dangerous creatures from the safety of the boat, and then, in pairs, allow you to go into our shark cages to get a near Jaws-eye-view of these creatures. For safety reasons, I must insist that all remain inside the boat at all times, and to make no attempt whatsoever to touch a shark, as these are wild animals that can harm you if you act recklessly."

"Captain," Xander turned to see Jumaane, another of his crewmen, standing at the observation deck, "We got a ship comin' in, 'bout 120 meters to our starboard bow. Looks like it's Captain Jack, Sir."

"Ah," Xander smiled thinly, mostly for his customers, "Another shark tour group. Myself and Captain Jack have been in a bit of a war for some time."

"He's comin' in fast, Captain," Jumaane warned.

Sure enough, his crazy rival pulled up less than 30 meters from him. Xander sighed, but refused to back down to his rival. Captain Jack was a lot of things: liar, con artist, bragger, liar, swindler, liar, a gimmick, oh, and did he mention liar?

Captain Jack used the allure and danger of the great white and the connection to pirates of old to his advantage. He painted his own catamaran brown and actually to the trouble to make it look as though it really were made of wood, and decorated it with everything from an old-timey helm to a supposedly real jolly roger (a black flag with a skull turned to the right, facing a red sparrow, with a bandana on its head and crossbones beneath it) from the 1700s.

He even dressed the part, as he was stood on the deck of his ship, dressed in the stereotypical coat, tricorner hat, even with a rapier by his side, standing with his legs apart as though he'd been on the seas his whole life (which, in all fairness, he had).

"Top of the mornin' to ye, ya bloody ponce," Captain Jack shouted out, drawing his blade as he did so, "AVAST! STRIKE YER COLORS, YA MOTHERLESS DOG!"

Xander sighed, looked up at his mast, which held the flag of Bangalla, the United States flag, and his company's flag (a white flag with blue waters, with a shark's fin rising out of the water and a black mark crossing it, making an 'X'). A very large part of him wanted to really pull out a pistol and see which man would come out the victor, but he knew that he'd never do that, no matter how much he'd love to hit 'Jack Sparrow' in the face.

"Bring it on, Sparrow," Xander returned, smirking as he did so, "At least I don't gotta go outta my way to look the part, Jack! I've got the eye patch!"

"Aye, indeed," Sparrow smirked back, "And yet, you lack the ecumenical know-it-all to even accomplish so simple a task as zipping up your trousers!"

Xander frowned, then instinctively looked down, finding that he had, indeed, forgotten to zip up his pants. Both crews and tour groups, along with Jack, laughed openly at that, even as Xander zipped them up.

Xander turned and glared at Buru, who was doing his very best to look innocent.

"...I'll make you walk the plank next time you do that," Xander glared, then he turned back to Jack, "And as for you, Sparrow, how 'bout you pull back some, you idiot!"

"In a moment, mate," Sparrow smirked, taking off his coat and turning his back to him, "I wanted to give ya a good, long look at this!"

He yanked down his pants, revealing his naked ass for the world to see, shaking it in Xander's direction, making him suffer as he read the letters 'F' and 'U' on the left and right cheek, respectively.

Xander smirked, even as the groups laughed, and reached into his pockets, pulling out the other twinkie as he did so. He took aim, lined up his shot, then threw.

The twinkie hit him, splattering its yellow self and white insides directly onto Captain Jack Sparrow's ass, causing the captain to gasp and lose his balance, falling onto the deck of his ship.

Xander laughed openly along with the rest of them, even as Jack struggled to his feet and hastily pulled up his pants.

"Aye," Xander replied, "You sure showed me, Sparrow. Thanks for the lesson. I'll remember to keep my bare ass clear of any flying pastries, lest I wind up kissin' the deck! With tongue!"

Sparrow reddened in the face and, finding no words to return, flipped him the middle finger. Xander smirked, and turned away from him, ignoring Captain Jack as he ordered his crew to turn to port.

"Alright," Xander smiled, "So, we've seen a shark, had a small war of words, indicent exposure, and finally a very one-sided food fight. Who's up for more sharks?!"

The group laughed and cheered, and settled themselves around the deck, watching the waters for signs of their prey.

"Captain," Xander turned to Buru, who was holding the radio with a shaky hand and a frown on his face, "I just received a communication from the _USS Kidd_. They're sending a zodiac craft to pick you up."

"...What," Xander asked, confused as all Hell.

"They claim it's a matter of extreme urgency," Buru said, equally confused, "For both the U.S. and Bangalla."

Xander sighed, rubbing his head in frustration.

"It never ends."


	2. The Long Run 2

The Long Run

Disclaimer: Own nothing!

ϗϗϗ

The hatch opened, revealing a very wet looking man with an eyepatch. He was thrown into the room, literally, but two big men dressed in black BDUs armed with standard issue MP5s. They closed the hatch, locking the man in there, and turned away with no thought whatsoever.

Xander rose to his feet and ran for the door, bashing it with his fists, feet, and body for a few moments.

"FUCKERS," Xander shouted as loud as he could, "FUCKIN'...FUCKERS! FUCK YOU!!!"

"A few years at sea," Xander stiffened, and turned around immediately, facing the new voice behind him, "And already you've learnt to cuss like a sailor. I'm disappointed, Mr. Harris."

"Who are you," Xander growled at the darkness, "What the fuck am I doing here for?"

"My name is of no importance," a bright light came on, blinding Xander momentarily and hiding the face of the obviously older man, "What you are here for, however, is of the utmost importance."

"...Speak, you fuck," Xander glared, sitting down across the man as he did so, "That way I can properly flip you the bird, and then file greivances against the U.S. Navy for their abduction of a Bangalli citizen."

"Mr. Harris," the older man seemed to smile, "For one, you willfully boarded our vessel and at were at no point in time forced to come along. And secondly, you are not a Bangalli citizen."

"Wrong on both counts," Xander smirked, "One, I did not _willfully_ come aboard. A zodiac ship came up alongside my craft, with Navy SEALs aboard it, each of them armed, and boarded my vessel, demanding that I come along. I had no choice at that point, as not coming along would surely risk inciting more panic with my patrons and would decrease my business. And, moreover, being thrown into a room to be interogated by a fuckin' spook is abduction by almost any standard. And, secondly, I am, in fact, a Bangalli citizen, as I passed the citizenship tests over three months ago. As far as Bangalla is concerned, I am a citizen, and you have abducted me. I'll take 'international incident' for 500, Alex!"

The spook, that was what he was as far as Xander was concerned, openly glared at him for a long moment. Clearly, he had not been fully aware of Xander's relatively recent qualification as a citizen of Bangalla. _Well, tough shit for him_, Xander thought to himself.

"...Very well, Mr. Harris," the man said, composing himself, "On behalf of the United States government, I apologize for the condition of your extradition here. However, before you fully decide to file greivances against your homeland, I would ask that you listen to what I have to say. If you still feel the need to file such complaints afterwards, I'll not only get you the paperwork, I'll fill it out myself."

That brought Xander up short. Xander knew these types of people. They were not ones to back down, or ever admit to being in the wrong. They thought they could _do_ no wrong. And now, to hear those words coming out this man's mouth, he knew, just plain knew, that something big was going down.

Xander sighed and settled himself into his seat, folding his arms up, and said, "Talk."

"...Last week, one of our overseas teams in Saudi Arabia came across a group of terrorists known as the Singh Brotherhood," Xander stiffened immediately, a fact which did not go unnoticed by Mr. Spook, "They were inside a cave which had only recently been discovered, attempting to find this."

Mr. Spook tossed a very old looking cloth to Xander. He stared at it for a moment, surprised at how sturdy it was considering that it appeared to be several hundred years old, and opened it up.

"Our team killed all the members of the Brotherhood," Mr. Spook continued as Xander looked at the picture on the cloth, "Each member had that on their person. They're looking for it, Mr. Harris."

"...You know I don't know anything about it," Xander said, tossing the cloth up the table, "You should be speaking to Nigel Bredford with the Jungle Patrol. Or, hell, go find the Phantom. I'm sure the Ghost Who Walks can help you out."

"The Ghost Who Walks is a legend, Mr. Harris, an ancient superstition," Mr. Spook said, "_This_ is real," he tossed the cloth back to Xander, "The Jungle Patrol has refused to help us, Mr. Harris. They claim that such an artifact belongs in a museum, not in the handes of the U.S. military. And, moreover, they claim to have never seen such an item before."

"Clearly, you don't believe them," Xander muttered, staring at the picture in his hands, "So what do you want with me?"

"We know all about your involvement with the Watcher's Council," Mr. Spook said, "Captain Riley Finn of the U.S. Army has vouched for your character, Mr. Harris. We believe that you may have some information regarding this artifact."

"What makes you think that," Xander asked, confused, "I thought you said this was in Saudi Arabia? Why would I know anything about an ancient oil lamp from that part of the world?"'

"We began researching the cave," Mr. Spook said, "We found an inventory list, written in Arabic. The lamp was written down, in as bold a writing as could be made, as being sold to a merchant from Bengali. At first, we believed this to be a country in India. Then, we discovered the legends of the Singh Brotherhood and their relationship with this specific country...Bangalla.

"With the Jungle Patrol's lack of cooperation on our minds," Mr. Spook concluded, "We decided to turn to the only other person in this country that we could."

"Me," Xander sighed, staring at the very old looking oil lamp on the cloth as he leaned back in his chair.

"You," Mr. Spook said with a small smile, "It's very important that we find this artifact, Mr. Harris, before the Singh Brotherhood finds it."

"...Do you know what it does," Xander asked.

"We do not," Mr. Spook lied, "But we have suspicions...and if we're right, we must keep this from them. At all costs."

_Great_, Xander thought, sighing inwardly, _Fuckin' spooks and fuckin' pirates._

"...Take me back to my ship," Xander said, standing up, "Gimme two days to do some research and see if I can come up with something to help. If I can't, then I'll ask the Jungle Patrol to help you. I hopefully can convince them to."

"You're doing the right thing, Mr. Harris," Mr. Spook said, somewhat put off by Xander's quick agreement, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Right," Xander smirked, "Just get me to my boat."

ϗϗϗ

"Captain," Buru greeted his friend as he pulled him aboard, watching with a wary eye as the zodiac pulled away, "What happened to you?"

"Later, Buru," Xander whispered to him as the tour group stared at him, "Sorry about that, folks. I was in the Navy back in the day, and one of my old buds wanted to check up with me and see how I was doing. He's got a sick sense of humor, though, sending SEALs to get a friend."

The American students laughed at that, while the French family just shook their heads, muttering to themselves about the strangeness of Americans.

Xander and Buru walked into the bridge, closing the door as they did so. Xander sighed, opening up the small fridge they had, and grabbed himself a beer and a twinkie.

"Alright, Xander, just what the Hell is goin' on," Buru demanded, folding his massive arms up in frustration as he glared at his boss.

"Remember how I told you I couldn't tell you shit about my past, but I got drunk and told you anyway," Xander said after taking a long swig from his beer, "It's about that."

"...Jesus," Buru muttered, sitting down as he did so.

"I need you to take the tours for the next two days," Xander said, taking another swig, "After that, no more tours. I also need to ask you for your help with something...do you know where I can find an ancient...one of these," Xander took out the cloth and handed it to Buru, who unfolded the cloth and stared at its contents for a moment.

"...Skull Cave, perhaps," Buru said, "Not that I have a damn clue where it is."

"Someplace real, Buru," Xander said, squeezing his nose in frustration.

Buru glared at him, but said, "There's a cave out in the jungle, along the border of the Bandar and Rope People's territorial line. It's said to house many great secrets and treasures. The Bandar and Rope People, however, protect it with vigor."

"Wonderful," Xander smiled, "Perfect. Can you indicate it on a map?"

"I suppose," Buru said, "I have never been to it myself, but my brother went there once with a white man seeking treasure. The white man never came back."

"Well, this white man will," Xander smirked, "Plot it for me, as best you can. After we dock, I'm heading home for a while. You handle the tours?"

"Course," Buru nodded, "Xander...what is this about?"

"Apparently, our friendly neighborhood pirates are after that thing," Xander indicated that cloth as he did so, "And our friendly neighborhood U.S.A. is after it as well. To 'keep it safe,' they said. I call bullshit. They want it for themselves."

"And you're going to lead them to it," Buru asked, surprise on his features.

"Yep," Xander smiled, "And I'mma make sure they get it, if only to keep them off my back."


	3. Chapter 3

The Long Run

Disclaimer: Own nothing!

ϗϗϗ

"Oh, dear," Nigel Bredford muttered, wiping away the sweat from his eyes as he examined the cloth.

Nigel Bredford had been born and raised in the country of Bangalla. He was the leader of the local branch of the Jungle Patrol in the small, coastal village of Halen. He was fairly popular, not only because of his status with the Jungle Patrol, a militia and powerful political party in Bangalla, but also because of his smashing good looks and winning personality. By sheer grace alone, he had not allowed these things to go to his head.

Yet, as Nigel stared at the cloth in his hand, he could not reign in that imposing sense of dread.

"I know," Buru said, sighing as he sat down in the leather chair that was in Bredford's office, which was lined with awards and the heads of animals he had hunted during his life, "Xander let me keep that for the day, so I could do more research on it. I don't know exactly what his plan is, but it seems clear to me that he intends to lead them to it, if only to insure they leave him alone."

"Oh, Mr. Harris is many things, Buru, but selfish is not one of them," Bredford stated, sitting down on his desk as he did so, "I get the feeling that he has something planned out. Although, it is entirely possible that he intends to lead them to the cave to get them out of his hair, as he claims. I just...don't believe it myself. It's terribly out of character."

"Well, consider how many problems the man has," Buru stated, somewhat sourly, "He's drunk himself silly many times, he is quite popular with the women, and he sleeps in till 4 in the afternoon most days."

"True," Bredford sighed, "Except that he doesn't arrive late for work, works only when he is sober, and if I remember correctly, has never missed a day of work."

"True," Buru admitted, "I honestly don't know what to do with him."

"Alexander is a man, Buru, his own man," Bredford stated, "He can take care of himself, as he has demonstrated many times in the past. Moreover, he has aided the Jungle Patrol more often than I care to mention with problems that I truly don't want to mention or even remember. He is a good man, so do not forget that."

"I haven't," Buru defended, seemingly angry, "I just don't want Xander giving up this lamp, not if it belongs in a museum as you say."

"Oh, that was just the story we gave to the States," Bredford waved away his words, "The truth is, we don't know what it does, why anyone wants it, or where it really is. All we know is that it is very dangerous."

"How do you know this," Buru inquired.

"Thru me," a new voice said, causing Buru to leap out of his chair and turn around, facing the person behind him.

"Oh," Buru calmed his heart down as he saw the man dressed head-to-toe in a tight, purple outfit, with a skull gunbelt and two M1911s at his sides, "Forgive me, Ghost Who Walks, I did not realize it was you."

"It's fine, Buru," the Phantom walked forward, shaking his hand as he did so, then shook Bredford's hand as well, then backed away and folded his arms up, "So, Mr. Harris has elected to aid the Yankees?"

"Yes," Bredford sighed, "We just aren't sure whether or not that's his real goal."

"He feels that Xander may be up to something else," Buru informed the Phantom, "I am certain that he is not."

"I don't know much about Mr. Harris," Phantom said, "I do know, however, that the cave you informed him of does, in fact, contain many treasures...but not the one that he seeks."

"Wonderful," Buru stated, "Xander will lead them there but he won't give them anything."

"Which, by my reasoning, would solve several things," Phantom said, "They receive perceived misinformation from their source, so they cast him aside as a waste."

"Except, all that will do is cause the Yankees to go gallavanting around our country, looking for this artifact without any form of oversight," Bredford stated, "As much as Bangalla can fight this, we all know that the Yankees will simply claim it is a police action, like they did in Vietnam. We could be facing a war with them."

"And then it would be Vietnam all over again," Phantom muttered, "Why does the United States government feel it is their right to do the work of other countries' forces for them?"

"Cause they see themselves as leaders who step in because no one else can do the job like they can," Buru said sarcastically.

"Perhaps," Phantom smiled slightly, "I suppose the only option we have is to ensure that they find something."

"Do you have any lamps like this in your home, Phantom," Bredford asked.

"I may," Phantom said, "I shall search tonight once I return to Skull Cave. In the meantime, Buru, would you mind trying to ascertain just what it is Mr. Harris plans to do?"

"I'll do my best, Phantom," Buru said, "Though I don't see why it is necessary."

"You know, for someone who seems to be Mr. Harris's closest friend, you don't seem to have much regard for him," Bredford stated, somewhat scathingly as he did so.

"I have been his friend since the day he came to our country," Buru said, "And since then, I've watched him steadily fall to the point where he is at now. I have lost a great deal of respect for the man after seeing what he is truly capable of."

"...I suppose I cannot blame you," Bredford said, "But, please, do not allow your personal feelings for Mr. Harris cloud your judgment."

"How can they," Buru asked, standing up to leave as he did so, "They've proven me right every time."

He walked out the door, closing it behind him as he did so. Bredford sighed, turning to face the Phantom as he did so.

"For our sakes, I hope he's wrong about Harris."

"I as well," Phantom agreed solemnly, "Take care, Nigel."

"You as well, Ghost Who Walks."

ϗϗϗ

The next day...

"Ah, Xander," Nigel greeted his guest with a smile, grasping his hand with a firm grip as he welcomed him into his office, "How are you, old man?"

"Could be better," Xander said, a small slur in his voice with his breath smelling slightly of vodka, bringing a small frown to Nigel's face.

"Well, come in, mate, take a seat," Nigel welcomed him in, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Scotch, if you got it," Xander said.

"Sadly, I don't, Xander," Nigel lied, "All I have at the moment is water and coffee."

"Water, then," Xander said, and Nigel quickly prepared him a glass.

"So, what can I do for you, Xander," Nigel asked, sitting down on his desk as Xander sipped his water.

"I'm guessing you heard about what happened to me yesterday, with the U.S. Navy picking me up off the coast," Xander said.

"Oh, yes, I was curious about that," Nigel said.

"Well, it's got to do with what they talked to you about before," Xander said, "The oil lamp? The dangerous one?"

"Oh," Nigel somehow pulled off surprise very well in that moment, though perhaps it was only because Xander was slightly inebriated at the moment, "My. Why on Earth would they speak with you about such things?"

"Not sure," Xander lied, "All I know is that I'm gonna have to lead them into Bandar and Rope People territory to get them to where it is I have to lead them to."

"Oh, dear," Nigel sighed, leaning back as he did so, "Well, mate, I can't help you there. The Jungle Patrol and the Bandar and Rope People have a strict code of cooperation without intrusion. I cannot talk them into letting you pass without incident."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Xander said, "What I'm worried about is what happens _after_ I lead them back from that cave."

"How do you mean," Nigel asked.

"I'm worried that after I've served my purpose, they'll kill me in the name of national security," Xander said.

"...Oh, dear," Nigel sighed, realizing that this was a very valid concern, "What can we do for you, Xander?"

"I'm going to lead them back via this path," Xander pulled out a map, unrolling it on the table, and indicated a path he had drawn in red on the map, "Once we reach this point," he circled a specific point on the map, "I want you to be there, to bail me out."

"...You do realize that if I do this, it could be considered as an act of war," Nigel asked, scared now.

"Liberating a citizen from a group of soldiers," Xander asked, "I think not."

Nigel had to concede the point.

"What are you leading them there for, Xander," Nigel asked, "As far as we know, the oil lamp is not there."

"Just give me your word that you'll be here, armed, two nights from now," Xander insisted.

"...Very well, Xander," Nigel said, and the two shook hands.

"Thanks," Xander said, standing up as he did so, "Now, I'm sorry, Nigel, but I need to get going. Lots more work to do."

"Indeed," Nigel frowned, thinking of just what it was going to take to make sure this situation ended on a happy note.


End file.
